i tried walking in
straight lines, but I can't.
my feet aren't align-able,
and my legs don't move that way.
People tell me it's art, but I
think all mine are mistakes.
cutting them is worse. the paper
is ripped and the shapes are
disturbed.
I don't think straight lines
were meant to be cut anyways.
they make up all the real things,
structuring the nothing-ness
into pieces of something-ness.
I wonder if because I can't make 'em:
that might be
saying something
about
Me.
BINABASA MO ANG
Slip of the Tongue ~ A Collection of Poetry
Poetry"But I don't want comfort. I want poetry. I want danger. I want freedom. I want goodness. I want sin." ~Aldous Huxley
